the question mark in the title somehow automatically added itself in and I have decided to go with it. It seems appropriate for Day 13. One time in 8th grade Geography (I assume that’s what it was) we were given the task of creating a crossword puzzle for a specific country. We were told to come up with 13 different questions/answers. I claimed triskaidekaphobia and asked how to proceed in hopes that I would only have to come up with 12 questions. Wrong. I was told I could add an extra question if I did not want to do 13. I think I stuck to 14 to give my story credential. Meaning I did extra work for no reason. I do this often.
Spoiler: the rest of this post is not funny. Feel free to step away now if feelings make you uncomfortable. There are so many feelings below.
Today was one of those days that I like to call a “bad day.” I realize that moniker sounds rather simple but honestly it is most descriptive. Today was one of those days where work was so overwhelming I felt as though I couldn’t keep up. And then my therapist canceled our session (albeit for incredibly good reasons). I got home around 5:30 and cried silently from sheer exhaustion. Steph and I ate dinner, watched TV and drank Moscow Mules and I felt better. For a few hours everything felt fine.
And then we talked about wedding dress shopping.
I am going shopping at three different stores this weekend. These appointments have been booked for at least two weeks. Any time the experience crosses my mind I try to give myself a mini pep talk. But every once in a while even that doesn’t work. I am so lucky to have friends that want to join me and new family that are willing to make the drive to accompany me. I am beside myself when I think how amazing these people are. And I am ever so grateful.
But I would be lying if I didn’t mention that I’m equally heartbroken.
I mentioned previously that my parents are not supportive of this wedding. That is only half true. My father is doing an excellent job of trying to be there for me. I would never say that he won “Dad of the Year” when I was growing up but he is absolutely trying his best now and that is something I take to heart. My mother, on the other hand, has moved in the opposite direction. She was my best friend growing up. She knew everything about me and I idolized her strength. I never understood how a child could desire to be the opposite of their mother when they became a parent but it breaks my heart to finally understand that feeling.
Since college my mother and I have had a complicated relationship. She was gifted with her first grandchild when I was freshman. Her second one came along two years later. It was difficult visiting on the holidays because it felt as though I had been replaced. Any refrigerator pictures or Christmas tree ornaments had been replaced with those of her new grandkids. I felt (and still do feel) guilty for these feelings of resentment. The Miller household was filled with drama over the next few years, and I did my best to remain supportive.
I was attending school in Colorado my Junior year of college when my mother flew out to attend my dance concert. I don’t think I will ever forget the events that transpired next. We were at a pizza place a few blocks from the theatre and I sincerely thought that was the best moment to tell my mother that I had been seeing a woman. I hoped to gain insight, advice and support from my mother. Instead I found myself alone with a slice of pizza and her box of leftovers. I had another performance in a few hours and sobbed the whole walk back to the theatre. [Don’t ever come out to your parents at a public place. This is advice someone should have given me.]
Up until that semester I had always dated boys. Looking back now I am able to understand how this newfound “gayness” probably came as a shock to my mother. It has been almost 5 years since that day and she still acts as though she found out yesterday. I wish I could say that I am able to remain objective about this whole situation, that I can understand and accept why my mother will not be there on my wedding day. But the 12-year-old inside me does not. The child that has waited for this day her whole life is broken-hearted that her mom will not watch her walk down the aisle. Will not watch her profess her love. Will not celebrate her happiness. Will not go dress shopping with her.
My friends are assuring me that if she doesn’t want to be there, she shouldn’t be. I know they are doing their best to keep me positive. I wish that were enough. But truth be told I want my mom there and I want her to be involved, above everything.
I am filled with guilt on the days I call my best friend Moe in a panic about every little detail. I apologize regularly for my word vomit. I finally admitted that I’m telling her all of the things I would have told my mom. It felt better and worse all at the same time to say that.
I am thankful that every day is not as bad as today. I am filled with serious guilt when I think about how often my fiancée watches me cry over our wedding. Everyone says that wedding planning is stressful. But honestly the planning is fine. It’s picturing the day-of that really sucks. And that’s really not supposed to suck.
xoxo, I’ll probably regret this tomorrow girl